


Tuition

by Trojie



Series: Trojie's Pornathon Entries 2014 [5]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/F, First Time, Half-Sibling Incest, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 18:01:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2279379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trojie/pseuds/Trojie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgause shows Morgana something that a gently-reared noblewoman ought not to know.</p>
<p>(Merlin Summer Pornathon Challenge 5 - Snatch)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tuition

'Come, sit with me, sister,' says Morgause, patting her lap. Morgana feels like a bird under the eyes of a cat, but she follows the direction of that purring voice and those beckoning fingers and comes to sit on her sister's knee, folding her skirts demurely about her legs as she does so. 

There will be a lesson here, she knows it. There always is with Morgause. It's just that Morgana doesn't know, yet, what it is to be. 

Morgause strokes Morgana's knee, her thigh, pulling the fabric of her gown gently as she does so. 

'What -' Morgana starts, twisting to see over her shoulder, but Morgause shushes her. In the orange firelight, Morgause looks more catlike than ever - hair golden, skin tawny, eyes a dangerous amber. And she smiles, and Morgana shivers, but it isn't with fear. She settles back against Morgause's body as long, delicate fingers trace up between her legs. 

'Are you chaste?' Morgause asks her, finding the hems on Morgana's smallclothes and tracing them. 'Untouched, my sweet sister? Innocent?'

Morgana has to work moisture into her mouth to answer. 'Yes,' she says with a little tilt to her chin, half pride and half defiance. It is so hard to tell whether Morgause approves or disapproves, but Morgana has never ached to please someone more than she does her sister. 

Lips smile foxily against the thin skin of Morgana's throat. 'We shall have to do something about that,' Morgause murmurs. 'You must be in control of yourself above all things,' she says, and the pads of her fingers are warm when they touch the insides of Morgana's thighs. 'There must be no part of yourself you don't know.'

Morgana squirms. She can't help herself. There is an unfamiliar throbbing, a wet heat between her legs, and Morgause is trailing close up to it. Morgana tries to pull her knees together, feeling a little swash of shame because Morgause said _control_ and this does not feel like it, but there is a quiet chuckle behind her and then Morgause takes her by the wrist and leads her own hand up under her skirts. She presses Morgana's fingers gently to her own flesh.

Morgana gasps. Her legs fall open wantonly, unbidden, her head lolls back. Morgause guides her fingertips through soft hair and over damp skin.

'Feel,' Morgause tells her. 'This is what they want you never to know, that you can feel like this - that you can give yourself this.' There is a place that Morgause nudges the pad of one of Morgana's fingers to, a firm-tender nub that makes something melt and shiver inside her. She feels her nipples tightening too, under the stiff fabric of her bodice, and saliva rising in her mouth, and she want, badly, for Morgause to kiss her.

But Morgause has a lesson to deliver.

'You never need anyone but yourself,' she says, and presses until Morgana's fingers slide lower and deeper. Morgana is panting now, and she doesn't even wait for Morgause to show her - the blood pounds and pulses at her core and she enters herself eagerly, with a moan she cannot help.

Morgause's fingers go with her, for a moment, and then withdraw. 'That's it,' she coaxes, and her hands, wet and dry, instead find their way to Morgana's bodice and her heavy, aching breasts, to free them to the cool air.. 'You know what you want,' Morgause says, sword-calloused palms smoothing hot over Morgana's nipples. 

Morgana is sobbing now, three fingers inside herself, smearing wetness along her wrist, sticky slick, burning, a feeling sweeter than any she's felt before. And when she's shaking, when it feels like she can't take any more, Morgause grabs her by the other wrist and moulds her fingers to her breast. 'Please,' Morgana whimpers.

'You can give yourself what you need,' Morgause says implacably and warmly. 'You need no-one but yourself.'

Morgana writhes, whines, convulses, and when she pinches, when she pushes deep, the winding tension snaps and she cries her relief with her face turned against her sister's throat, sobbing and shaking.

'There,' soothes Morgause. 'Isn't knowledge better than innocence?'


End file.
